War in the North
by xiezhi23
Summary: A depiction of the war for the north. It is largely based on the books, though may take elements from the show, though likely not in this specific story. Intended to be the first in a series. I will focus on battles and it being a war. Romance will be very limited in this one. Basically, a more realistic take (as realistic as a story with dragons and bear sized wolves can be), and
1. Battle in the Ice

Hosteen Frey POV

Hosteen Frey was ridding hard and fast, but all he could see was white. "_This blizzard is pure madness. No wonder all these damned Northerners are all insane and stupid. No human with any sense would live in this hell hole._" Hosteen continued to ride.

Hosteen saw a fire reaching into the sky and smiled cruelly. "_Ah, the village. At last I shall arrive and destroy that false king. Then Bolton will be forced to continue to owe favors to House Frey. He'll truly owe us everything. I intend to make him pay me especially well. Afterall, it's his fault that I'm out in this blizzard. It's his fault that Aenys is dead._" Hosteen wouldn't say that he especially cared about his brother. Afterall, he was likely just in the way anyways. "_That said, he was still my brother, and I'll be damned if I let some Northern savage kill him unanswered. It would be an insult to our house. Besides, it almost killed me and did kill my horse._" Hosteen was eager for both glory and victory.

Hosteen had already determined his strategy while riding. Afterall, with Aenys dead, he was the leader. "_As it should be, I was always the stronger. Aenys took too long with all his elaborate planning. All I'm fighting are frozen fools and worthless savages. They will all taste the steel of House Frey."_ Hosteen continued to ride forward towards the battle.

Realizing that the time for the fight was fast approaching, Hosteen signaled his second in command. The man rode forward, his name lost on Hosteen, and asked, "What are your orders mi'lord?" Hosteen thought for a second. "Take around 600 men and come in from behind. We'll smash from their rear and destroy their morale. They're freezing fools, this should be a quick fight." The man nodded and asked, "What about Lord Pig back there?" Hosteen laughed, "Leave him, he'll only get in the way. Afterall, his men are busy trying to keep his horse from dying under his weight." The two men laughed for a moment. Hosteen then signaled the man to leave with his force, and the man obeyed.

Hosteen continued riding, observing the flanking force ride off. "_Good, that should give them time to get around. He took some of the faster riders. We continue forward, keeping the baggage train near us._" Suddenly Hosteen heard a horn from the front. "_Contact, surprising, oh well, we'll deal with it._" Hosteen drew his sword and before long dark shapes came out of the blizzard and began attacking the formation. Hosteen and his warriors began battling the newcomers on horseback. Most fights lasting no more than a second. "_These must be some of the northern clansman. Their numbers seem equivalent to my current force, around 1200. They are mocking me, they assume that we will fall to people that are consider savages even by the Northern savages."_ This thought made Hosteen's blood boil. Hosteen was nearly cut by one of the savages, but he parried and quickly slashed the would-be slayer across the stomach with his sword killing the assailant. Soon after, the clansman retreated.

"Report," yelled Hosteen to his men. One of his lieutenants rode forward, "We appear to have 30 dead, and 100 wounded. We count 60 dead of theirs, including the wounded that we just executed." Hosteen growled in frustration. "Send the wounded and 50 men to remain here with the baggage train. The rest of you charge after them." After the men were sectioned off, Hosteen roared and rallied his men. They all spurred their horses and rode forward at top speed, towards the light.

The entire formation rode forward at top speed, and soon they were near the light. "_Now they will taste my wrath._" Hosteen then shouted, "Kill them all, except Stannis Baratheon, we will return him to Winterfell. There, he will feel Roose Bolton's cruelty." Hosteen almost felt sorry for Baratheon. Suddenly, in front of the formation, a fire appeared. "_Burning oil perhaps, no matter. It's already burning out._" Indeed, the fire only lasted for a few minutes, and was already going out, but Hosteen looked around at where he was riding. His eyes quickly widened in horror. Instead of dirt and road, he realized they were ridding on snow covered ice, the snow heavy enough to give traction similar to elsewhere. However, he also saw that the ice was covered in holes. "_Oh no, the ice, it's weakened, and that fire, we're about to…"_ However, Hosteen didn't finish the thought as he, and the rest of the front of the formation felt the ice shatter under them. He saw as he and his men were swallowed by the cold water, unable to swim with the heavy armor. Hosteen continued to sink, even after he stopped kicking underneath the frozen lake.

Mors Umber POV

Mors smiled happily as he saw the Frey formation go through the ice in the middle of the two islands. Around 600 Frey men remained, hundreds sinking to their deaths in the lake, including their apparent commander. "_Hmm, I suppose weasels can't swim, especially with all that armor of theirs._" Mors was delighted at the continued effectiveness of the trap falls on the Freys. "_First, I took out the one that was apparently a good commander, and now his nitwit replacement has fallen as well. Good thing that his southron king made this lake into a death trap._" The plan was going well.

The plan was a variation on the tricks involving sending false light signals to ships in order to make them crash. In this case, Baratheon placed a large fire pit on top of the weirwood tree and lit it, after extinguishing the light of the watchtower. Then, he sent the clansman, on horseback to anger the Freys into a reckless charge. Now with a 1000 Northman, including Umbers and Mormonts on this island under his command, and a 1000 southron knights on the other under the command of the knight Horpe, they would annihilate the remaining Freys. Meanwhile, the rest of the clansman were moving on the baggage train. However, they would need to remain careful. Parts of the Frey force could have split off.

"Alright lads, let's warm these Frey bastards up. Fire," commanded Mors, and before long hundreds of arrows, from both islands rained down on the terrified Freys. Around a hundred more died and then the formation came apart. Around a hundred went towards the island with the knights, and almost 300 came towards Mors. The rest tried to flee for their lives. Meanwhile, Mors heard a horn blow from near the weirwood. "_I suppose that the king is currently fighting another force of Freys. If he can't survive an attack of Frey's he doesn't deserve to be a king." _Mors observed as the 300 Freys charged at his hap hardly, not even in a faint semblance of a formation, just an unruly mob. "Raise spears." His men gathered closer together and waited.

Before long, the Frey cavalry hit the spears at full force, and they fell from their horses, either due to the spears, or due to crashing into each other. Many died instantly, and most of the rest soon after. It turned into a bloody melee in short order. Mors briefly dueled a Frey soldier. He appeared to be a young lad, fast, but not all that skilled. The lad swung at Mors, but the swing was too wide. Mors quickly dodged to one side and swung his blade, severing the boy's head in one fell swoop. Within moments, the melee was over, and Mors had slain 3 more Freys.

Mors looked over his men, especially the green boys he had brought himself. "_They appear to have fought admirably. Most of them even got a kill or two._" However, Mors was somewhat saddened. 9 of the boys appeared to have died in the fight. "_Poor lads but brave. I'll have to inform their families of their bravery and loyalty._" Mors observed the rest of his men. Overall, they had performed well. They suffered few casualties and the Freys were all but wiped out. They had taken 26 prisoners. "Alright, you weasel faced miserable excuses for men. You are our prisoners, but your fate will be decided by the king. I recommend you behave." Mors soon heard several horns that announced victory on all 3 islands, and that the watch tower's fire had been reignited. "Alright lads, time to return to the village." Mors then led his force back to the village.

Stannis POV

Stannis Baratheon was not a man who smiled often, but this appeared a time to do so. His forces had prevailed and done exceptionally well. Around 1800 Freys and 300 Manderlys had marched towards him. However, the Manderlys left before the battle began, likely returning to White Harbor. Meanwhile the Freys fell for the trap. He had used the Northern clansman as skirmishers, and put 1000 of his knights on one island, 1000 northmen on the other, and kept 200 knights and 100 Glovers with him. His force had engaged 600 Freys that had been sent as a flanking movement. However, they had been taken off guard by some ice cracking, and as his force had engaged them, Farring had sent some men to attack them from the rear. As a result, his smaller force had easily overwhelmed the poor excuse for soldiers that they had fought. Overall, they had captured the baggage train, resupplying his forces with more than enough provisions, had even captured a little over 100 Freys and killed most of the rest, including Hosteen Frey. Around 200 Freys had managed to escape, though Stannis suspected many would die in the journey to Winterfell. "_In essence, House Frey is eliminated from this war in the North, and Bolton has lost control of Manderly. Bolton was a fool, he should have left me to starve._" Stannis's forces meanwhile took few casualties. Around 50 of his own knights were dead, along with 9 Umbers, 5 Mormonts, 150 Clansman, 20 Glovers, and 25 various Northmen.

Stannis looked around and saw his men celebrating. It appeared that victory had helped quell the infighting that had begun to develop amongst his forces and the northmen. There was good natured teasing but that was it. "_Apparently success and food were all that it took to get them to cooperate again."_ Stannis was himself very pleased with the success of his forces. "_I may win this war yet. Once the north is unified, we will be able to begin preparing for the war north of the Wall. However, defeating Sir Stupid was the simple part. Next, we will face Roose Bolton. This will not be an easy battle."_ Stannis began to contemplate the next battle. This battle was over, but the war had just begun.


	2. Mutiny

Othell Yarwyck POV

Yarwyck was standing near Castle Black's gate, watching the events unfold. It had started with the giant, the one called Wun-Wun, killing one of the Southron King's knights. While distracted, he and Marsh's men moved in and managed to kill Jon Snow, their own Lord Commander. Yarwyck swept some tears from his eyes. "_Poor lad, I actually did like him. But he was going to destroy the Watch. First, he let the damned Wildlings through, even though they butchered our brothers. Now he was going to ride against Winterfell, in spite of our vows. He claimed to defend the Watch, but it was pure vengeance, and foolishness. If he loses, House Bolton comes for us all. So now, friend or not, brother or not, we had to settle it here. Your intentions were good, as was your heart, but you would have led us to utter ruin._" Yarwyck proceeded to examine the chaos as best he could.

Currently, Marsh and his group of 30 stewards were trying to fight off a group of Wildlings that had seen what he did. Worse, the Red Witch had arrived to examine the commotion and a single word from her caused most of the Baratheon men at arms to engage our forces. "_Seems she deems Snow useful. It matters little, he's gone now."_ Meanwhile, the wildling named Leathers along with the young boy attending Melissandre named Seaworth were dragging the Lord Commander's body towards a tower.

Overall, despite having around 100 members of the Watch under their direct command, and with 250 of them not involved, they were being overwhelmed. The 20 Thenns under Sigorn were making quick work of the 4 Rangers and 10 Stewards they were fighting. Meanwhile, 150 Wildlings that had been inside the wall to guard their leaders were fighting the remaining of their forces. To make matters even worse, upon seeing Snow fall, the giant came to his senses and began to target them. Some of the neutral members were engaging the Wildlings in the confusion. In addition, even the Flints and Norreys who had been at Castle Black to speak with Jon were engaging our forces. "_Those Mountain Clans must not appreciate betrayal. That or it speaks to their loyalty to Ned Stark. Damn them. This is all falling apart. We tried to save the Watch, but we may all die here after all._" Yarwyck clenched his fist in anger.

Behind him, he heard footsteps, so he and 5 Builders he had been with turned around. There, they saw new arrivals, who had somehow appeared without going through the gates. It was a group of 16 men in armor and 1 woman in leather hunting gear with a bow. The men were dressed in armor, with pink ornaments, and the apparent leader was dressed in blood red armor, and he had the ugliest face that Othell Yarwyck had ever seen. However, he immediately knew who was before him, House Bolton's mad dog bastard, Ramsay. "My lord, why are you here? And how did you get passed the gate."

Ramsay strode forward, a hideous smile on his horrible face. "My, my, it appears you watchmen don't have enough to deal with, and are fighting yourselves. No matter, direct me to my wife, my servant, and the bastard you made Lord Commander. You can prove your neutrality, I am a fair man after all." Ramsay stared at Yarwyck, still with the terrible smile.

Yarwyck swallowed in fear, knowing of this monster's reputation. "My….my…..my lord, you wife and servant are not here. We do not know anything of them. I swear. As for the Lord Commander, he is dead. We killed him for considering abandoning his vows and heading towards Winterfell. Surely that is…." Yarwyck stammered his way through that before Ramsay held up his hand.

Ramsay's terrible smile widened, "Good good, you eliminated an enemy for use. I truly appreciate that." Ramsay then strode forward with a hand outstretched in apparent friendship.

Yarwyck finally let out a breath. "_He understands, good. Now all I have to do is shake his hand, and perhaps they will assist us in this matter."_ Yarwyck took Ramsay's hand, but before he could react, Ramsay plunged a knife into the bottom of Yarwyck's mouth. Immediately, like clockwork, the Bolton men slaughtered the 5 builders with him. While he was choking to death on his blood, Ramsay brought Yarwyck's eyes to his own. "Your reward is a quick death, be happy." The last thing Yarwyck heard as he faded to black was that horrible laugh.

Tormund POV

Tormund Giantsbane was many things, he was a storyteller, a lover of drink and women, and a man who loved a good fight, naturally followed by a good fuck. What he wasn't was a traitor. "_Those wretched good for nothing, craven crows led by that damned miser who does nothing but count killed my friend. I'll kill 'im before this is over."_ Tormund was deeply enraged by the cowardly betrayal and murder of his friend. "_I'll make 'em pay, or I am not Tormund Giantsbane!"_ Tormund let out a lound warcry as he slashed yet another traitorous crow down.

Tormund observed what was happening around him. Clearly the battle was in their favor. "_Between us, the good crows, and the witch's men we outnumber the traitors severely. However, I suspect some of those we're fighting aren't traitors but men who are confused and see us free folk cutting down their brothers. Understandable, but intolerable."_ Tormund continued fighting.

Before long, Marsh was knocked to the ground, held on the ground with Leather's boot on his treacherous neck, unable to speak or breathe. Soon, his followers began to drop their weapons. Tormund sensed that the fight was coming to a close. "Enough," he bellowed, loud enough that all fighting ceased and all men stepped away from their opponents, uncertain of the situation.

"Now, I wanna sort out what this here fight was about. That treacherous cunt on the ground held by Leathers led men to stab Jon Snow, your King Crow. We was fighting to avenge him. Now, if any want to keep fighting, Tormund Giantsbane will fight all night. However, if you ain't a traitor, you'll stand down and let us sort this out." Tormund looked around and observed the men. Many of the one's still standing looked shocked and disgusted as they looked at the others. The rest however, looked saddened but aware. "_Those are the traitors, there's about 40 left. I supposed that means 40 bodies to burn, in this case I might let the witch have her fun."_ Tormund sighed, "Take those men into custody, the rest of you, return to your quarters. The ones we know are with us will guard you until we sort this mess out. Now git." Soon the courtyard began to clear.

Tormund turned and began to walk towards the witch's tower. As he was walking, he was joined by Val. Tormund noticed that she looked upset. "_Makes sense, those two did develop a friendship of sorts._" Tormund turned his head towards her. "What do you think we do now?"

Val looked at him and sighed, "How should I know. Perhaps this witch can bring him back. Hopefully without blue eyes," joked Val weakly, her heart clearly not in it.

Tormund was surprised, "_she's more upset than I thought. Perhaps they were closer than I thought. Oh well, hopefully she's right. We need Jon, he might be the last hope we have to keep this strange operation of ours together. If we divide, we are all dead. That much Mance was right about." _Tormund and Val proceeded to enter the tower.

They entered the room that the witch currently occupied. Tormund couldn't help but examine the witch in detail. "_Damn me, but she is one beautiful woman. If not for her burning people alive, I might be trying to bed her. But damn, she is even more insane than I am, and that's saying something._" Tormund looked around the room. Inside were the red witch, the boy serving her named Seaworth, Sigorn's new southern wife, and a couple guards. On a table, with his upper garments removed lay Jon, with the witch cleaning his wounds.

The red witch looked at them. "We have won then." Tormund knew instantly that it wasn't a question. Tormund nodded and she smiled. "Good, those traitors will die soon. I believe the Lord Commander is one of my Lord's chosen. I don't imagine to know what his plans for Jon Snow are, but I feel that he was a part to play in the wars to come. If you were going to ask whether I can bring him back, the answer is that I will try."

Tormund and Val both breathed in relief, however the witch looked at them sternly. "However, there is no promise of it. I will try, but the Lord of Light R'hllor will decide his fate. I am but a vessel. Do not fear, he will not join the army of the dead. Either he will return or he will not. However, there are stories of men raised from the dead before. It is likely that this day will change him forever. Whether for the worst, only time can tell. Do you understand?" The witch looked at them intensely.

Tormund and Val looked at each other. Tormund could tell that Val was made uneasy by the statement, and she looked as close to tears as she gets. "_She truly cares for this one, I'm surprised. After Jarl, I figured she'd be closed off for good. I hope this works, and he comes out alright._" Tormund turned back towards the witch. "_I don't like you, or trust you. However, I think you're on our side, and I'll trust you with my friend. Betray us, and I swear, by the old gods, the true gods, Tormund Giantsbane will hunt you to the ends of the earth. Others be damned."_ Tormund then nodded in confirmation.

The red witch smiled and nodded back. "Very good, perhaps you should secure our stronghold for now. You would only be in the way, and after this mutiny, we need to restore stability. I will come find you soon. As I said, this will either work or it will not. Perhaps you could bring the direwolf." Upon seeing Tormund look at her suspiciously she laughed. "No, I will not harm the beast. I merely feel that the two should remain near each other. Besides, an extra guardian wouldn't hurt, especially one so fearsome and loyal." Tormund sighed and nodded.

Tormund and Val proceeded to walk away and out of the room. "Hopefully this will work," said Tormund. Val however said nothing, walking with a concerned look. "_Perhaps I should leave her be. Her mind is likely clouded right now."_ Tormund placed a hand on her shoulder, which briefly startled her. "Go grab the wolf and return. Stay by the entrance, enough out of the way that the witch won't complain, but close enough that you'll know when the deed is done." Tormund smiled at her comfortingly.

Val looked surprised, and then nodded once before flashing a quick smile. After they exited the tower, he watched her walk towards where the direwolf was being kept. "_This had better work, otherwise I think that she might do something reckless. Hopefully, she'll keep a cool head._" Tormund walked towards where Leathers, and a few of the loyal crows were gathered.

As he approached, Leathers turned and looked at him grimly. "_That man is always grim, but I suppose today is the day to be grim."_ Tormund approached him and they gave each other a quick pat on the shoulder. "_That should be more than enough comforting for us."_ Tormund then looked at the group, it was Leathers, Jon's steward Satin, and some ranger crow. "What's our situation, has Wun-Wun calmed down?" The last thing Tormund needed was the giant to continue his rampage.

Leathers nodded, "Aye, I finally calmed Wun-Wun down. Apparently that damned southron knight was too antsy and slashed Wun-Wun. That's what started this whole mess. I'm starting to think that the whole knighthood is a load of mammoth shit if they allow a man like that to be considered an elite warrior." Tormund couldn't help but chuckle slightly, and even the two southerners couldn't help but nod in agreement. "As for our situation, we have around 80 men of the original Night's Watch confirmed loyal, and we suspect most of the remaining are loyal, or unable to prove that the aren't. We have around 40 confirmed. Right now, I have 5 of the Night's Watch, and 8 of the free folk in the courtyard, a few scattered on patrol, 2 watchmen guarding the ice cells, and the rest guarding the quarters. What's the situation with Jon Snow?" Leathers, though stern, seemed genuinely concerned. "_Another man who's loyalty Jon has earned._"

Tormund shook his head sadly. "Jon is gone. However, the red witch, Melissandre, thinks that she may be able to bring him back. Without blue eyes. It's a longshot but it's all we have." Leathers and the others nodded in grim acceptance.

Tormund looked towards the gate. "Alright, perhaps we should check the gate area, ensure that everything is in order." The others nodded and they began to walk forward. Before long they noticed the bodies near the gate. Tormund and the others rushed forward. "Hmm, the builder and a few others, they're out of the area where the fight was, did it spread this far?" Tormund looked to Leathers for an answer.

"No, I don't think so, maybe I missed it. That said, one less to answer for, I would wager that Yarwyck was likely with Marsh on this. We'll have to burn these bodies too. I'll send men to carry them off in a bit. Let's check the gate first." Leathers was calm, yet Tormund could sense concern and confusion. He suspected Leathers wanted to examine the gate for answers.

Upon reaching the standing area above the gate Tormund walked towards the wall. He pulled at a shiny object and quickly realized that it was a hook. "I found a hook, make that several. Looks like someone snuck in." Tormund looked to Leathers and the others and saw them find hooks as well. "_What is going on? Who could have climbed in, and more importantly where are they and what do they want?"_ Tormund was suddenly concerned. They may have finished one crisis, only to be found in the middle of a new one.

One of the crows looked out, and shouted, "Riders approaching!"

Sure enough, a small group of riders carrying the burning stag of the southron king approached. "Open the gate," commanded the knight, Tormund was sure he recognized the voice. "I'm Ser Justin Massey, here on orders from his grace, Stannis Baratheon, the one true king of all Westeros." Tormund nodded. "_Ah yes Massey. The suck up who is with the group that loves burning people led by that damned witch. Ah well, if I remember he was a whiny little prick, but not nearly as bad as the other psychos."_ Tormund looked at his group. "Alright, let's let the little knights in."

Tormund and Leathers walked down to meet Massey in person once the gate was open, followed by 4 other knights, a girl, and an unarmored man. The man in question got off his horse and approached the two men. Tormund saw the man scowl in disgust. "Ah, savages, what an appalling welcome. Has the Lord Commander forgotten his courtesies so easily? He is a bastard, a northern one, I shouldn't be too surprised."

Leathers looked angered by the knight's comments, and Tormund was as well, but he gripped Leathers before he did something, they'd all regret. "No tin man, the Lord Commander, my friend Jon Snow, is currently unable to host you. He was stabbed to death by the crows who disliked him and your king's policies." Tormund noticed the man pale immediately.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I….I don't know what to say. We came to deliver the banker and Snow's sister to Castle Black, before leaving for Braavos. I am truly sorry." Massey seemed genuine enough. "_As I thought, a snotty prick, but not a terrible person. Just a little too self-absorbed," _thought Tormund.

Tormund waved him off, "With luck, your red witch will be bring him back soon. That's the plan at any rate." Tormund noticed that Massey seemed irritated with how he referred to the witch, but he said nothing. "As for the mutineers, they've been defeated. We'll deal with the survivors come morning. Now let's help you settle in." However, before they could begin a loud scream was heard coming from the tower that the southron queen had settled in. Immediately, Tormund knew that all hell was about to break loose. Tormund, Leathers, Massey, three of the knights, and the small group of crows and free folk all rushed towards the tower, ready for the new crisis.

Val POV (Starts after Separating from Tormund)

Val walked towards where the direwolf was placed by Jon. "_A truly loyal protector, Jon should have listened to the witch. On this, she was most certainly correct._" Val was disturbed that she could agree with that woman, but the results were clear. She was also surprised that she had begun to think of Jon Snow as Jon. "_It had always been crow or king crow, now it's Jon. Hmm, perhaps I did care more than I thought, it's easier to see now that he's…" _Val could feel the sadness coming on, but forced it back down. "_Concentrate, now is not the time."_

Val arrived at Jon's quarters and she opened the door. Immediately the mass of white fur came out, hardly making a sound. Ghost then looked up at her with it's red eyes and she could almost feel his sorrow, despite not being a warg. "_Poor wolf, it clearly adores it's master. Well, hopefully the two can be reunited soon._" Val gave the white creature a scratch behind the ears, which he clearly appreciated.

Val and Ghost began to return to the tower where the witch had holed up. She heard the sounds of struggling coming from the other side of the tower. She and the wolf shared a look before running to investigate. There she saw the witch placing the Sigorn's wife's cousin, who had attempted to take here, on a clearly hastily constructed wooden pyre. Val noticed that the man had been gagged and tied up, enabling no resistance and little sound. "_Clearly trying to ensure no one investigates what is going on."_ Sigorn's wife, "_Alys I think her name is,"_ looked conflicted, though appeared to be offering no resistance. "What is going on here," demanded Val, cautious of the witch.

The witch turned and smiled at her. "Only death can pay for life, and the Lord works through king's blood. Karstark is kin of Stark, and they were the king's of winter. Since the Lord Commander is from that line, I believe that the magic will work stronger. Besides, this man is our enemy, surely you won't weep for him. Would you really be willing to allow Jon Snow to remain dead just so this pathetic man can continue to waste breath." Despite the witch's words, Val was conflicted. Fire seemed an awful way to go, and this man, while scum, hadn't done anything she knew of to deserve this. "_However, I believe we need Jon, he may be the one to lead us. Therefore, I…."_ Reluctantly, Val nodded, and the witch smiled and continued her work.

Val walked over to Sigorn's new wife. "Alys was it," asked Val. The girl nodded in response. "We should return to the room where Jon is, if this works, he should see some familiar faces." Alys looked at her and nodded. Both women and the wolf walked away towards the tower as the witch lit the pyre. Val heard muffled screams as the man burned and heard the witch muttering chants and spells in her strange foreign language. "_Valyrian is what I believe Jon and the witch called it. Sounds nothing like the common tongue, or even the old tongue."_

Val. Alys, and Ghost quickly entered the room where Jon lay, seeing that the witch had left two of her guards to remain with the body. "_Seems she truly does wish to see Jon return. I may not like her, but perhaps I should try to see her as an ally rather than an enemy. Perhaps I'm blinded by my own prejudices._" Val knew she was rather proud. However, she knew when it was time to acknowledge her mistakes. Val walked over and sat on a chair next to the table where he lay

Val examined his torso and saw at least 7 deep stab wounds, and more shallow ones. Val could feel a slight sting in her eyes as she examined him. "_How could those bastards do this? He was their leader, their friend, their brother. Those who did this will die, I don't care if he's brought back, they will pay."_ Val looked and saw Ghost come near her, and look into her eyes, his own filled with rage. "_Don't worry, we'll deliver justice together. After all, you can probably sense who did this. Thank the gods for you Ghost. If only Jon had listened to the witch….Melisandre, perhaps I should call her by her name. That's the least I can do."_ Val rubbed Ghost's ears as she turned back towards Jon's body.

Val waited anxiously for minutes, yet nothing happened. She could hear Melisandre continuing to chant, but still nothing happened. "_How long will this take? Is it supposed to be done by now? What if it doesn't work? I don't…"_ Val could feel herself begin to panic, her hope having been built up, and now not being reward. "_Old gods, I don't know if you can hear me, but please…please bring him back."_ Val continued waiting, feeling her heart sink as he remained.

Suddenly, Jon's eyes opened wide and he began breathing heavily, a confused look on his face. Val's hands immediately went to his arm. "Jon, Jon, can you hear me? Stay calm. It's alright. I'm here. Alys is here. You're among friends. Stay calm." Val gently kneaded the muscles in his arm, trying to keep him calm. Ghost kept an eye on him.

Jon's breathing eventually returned to normal, and he began to sit up on the table. He turned towards Val, his legs leaning over the table. While his pants were still on, his chest was bare due to his shirt being removed. The deep cuts were becoming scars, and the shallows were light scars. Val sat up from the chair and sat next to Jon. She placed her arm across his back and place it on his far shoulder, before bringing him towards her in a gentle caress. She placed her face in his hair, before wrapping her other arm across his front. "You're safe now. I'm here. Relax." Val could feel Jon begin to relax, and Val was relieved. "_He's alive. Thank the gods. I swear I'll keep him that way, for as long as I can. I don't know what I feel, but I will keep him safe." _Val continued to hold him, relieved to have her friend back. "Don't get used to this though crow," teased Val, unable to keep from making a joke. To her surprise, despite coming back from the dead, Jon chuckled at her joke. "_Hmm, perhaps I should check his eyes, laughing doesn't seem like Jon."_ Val smiled, amused and happy that he was back. She removed her hand from his far shoulder and began to run it up and down his spine, before long she could feel him begin to relax. "_Good, he'll need the rest."_ Suddenly, she heard a loud scream from outside. Val immediately leapt from the table. She noticed Jon begin to try to move as well. Val quickly turned and glared at him. "You fucking stay here, you get killed again doing a stunt like this, I'll make the witch bring you back just so I can torture you to death myself. You're in no condition to fight stay here." Jon glared slightly at her, but relented for once. "_Good, I'd hate to have to break his legs."_ Val then rushed out towards the screams, smiling slightly as she noticed Alys come towards Jon to keep him there, while Ghost remained as a guard. Val was curious about what was going on. "_More mutineers? No, we took care of them. So what?"_ Val knew she would have to reach her destination to get those answer, so she continued to run, her heart sinking as she realized where they came from, the tower the queen, the dead princess, and the sweet little monster were holed up in.

Queen Selyse POV (Starts at Same time as Val's)

Queen Selyse continued to ponder the news. The lord commander was dead, murdered by his own men. "_Well that bastard should have been wiser. I told him repeatedly to listen to my advice, and he continued to be impudent. This is what he has reaped. Hopefully his successor will be wiser than he. Too bad about Ser Patrek though, I'll have that savage creature killed for this." _Before long, she heard a knock on the door to her chamber. "_Ah, perhaps more news."_

Selyse turned to the door and commanded, "Enter." Immediately the door opened, and a hideous man she couldn't recognize came walking in with an arrogant and impudent smile on his ugly face. "Who are you," demanded Selyse annoyed. "_Who else has arrived, I should be the first informed of new arrivals. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, that bastard was amongst the few who had something resembling a civilized noble background. The rest are low born, worthless criminals." _Selyse continued staring at the new arrival, before she noticed something that suddenly arouse concern. "_Where are Ser Benethon and Ser Dorden, they should have entered with the man._" As if sensing her thoughts, the man's horrible smile widened.

The man gave a mocking bow. "Greetings Usurper Queen Selyse, wife to the failure of a king, Stannis. I am Ramsay Bolton." Ramsay then motioned and 17 more men entered, and even a girl in hunting clothes with a bow.

Queen Selyse was even more alarmed now. "Where are my men? What do you want bastard?" Selyse was worried, and she immediately motioned Shireen to come closer to her, as her 5 remaining shields stood closer in defensive formation.

Ramsay looked at her with a mocking look on his ugly face. "Why, those two fools you had outside are quite dead. As for why I'm here, well, I'm here for you little grey scaled princess, since that bastard lord commander is now dead." Ramsay then looked at his men. "Kill them." Immediately his 17 men charged at her 5 as the girl nocked an arrow.

Selyse watched the fighting unfold. Ser Norbet was struck in the throat with an arrow from the girl before he could even attack an opponent. Ser Molegorn managed to strike down 2 of the enemy before he fell to a sword through the back. Ser Lampert and Ser Brus were both overwhelmed before they could put up much of a fight. Finally Ser Perkin was lamed by an arrow to his knee and had a cut near his neck, still living, yet unable to fight. The fight only lasted a few minutes, and all five of hers were dead, while Ramsay had lost only two of his.

Selyse continued to hold Shireen close to her, fearful as Ramsay approached. "_I can't do anything. I've lost."_ Selyse looked at Ramsay. "What do you want?"

Ramsay rolled his eyes and chuckled evilly. "I already told you. I'm here for your daughter. As for you, well, you don't look like you'd be much fun. You're not nearly as attractive as the ones I normally hunt, and you don't look like you'd provide much sport. Besides, I don't really have the time to take you. So…" Ramsay pulled out a knife, and Selyse screamed.

Val POV

Val reached the tower and saw Tormund, Leathers, a few free folk, a few crows, and a few southrons all in combat with a group of armored southrons wearing pink. There were around a dozen of them, and they were forcing them back. Val saw a weapons rack near her, and immediately grabbed a sword. She ran forward and immediately helped a crow finish off one of the men. All around her, more and more free folk and crows were arriving to join the fight. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a group of 4 men and a girl being led by a man with red armor, and there she saw the princess being carried away by their leader, along with another girl.

Val was shocked to see that. "_They must have killed the queen's knights. Oh no, if that's who I think it is….no, I won't let her be taken. She may carry the grey death, but she doesn't deserve the death those monsters would give her."_ Val broke away, and let the reinforcements aid in the elimination of the enemies. Val rushed forward and saw the breakaway group heading towards the gate.

As soon as Val was about to reach them, they had opened the smaller door to the gate. "_Almost there, I can still get them."_ Suddenly, an arrow came towards Val, and she managed to duck and fall to the ground. She looked up and saw the girl with the group holding a bow. The girl smiled mockingly at her, before curtsying in a mocking way. Val's blood boiled at the insult. "_I'll teach that little bitch."_ Val got back to her feet, and rushed to the door.

Val managed to get through the door, but her heart immediately sank. The group had managed to reach horses, and were riding away, and Val could hear the girls' shrieks as they were carried away. "_The free folk may believe in stealing women but this is clearly wrong. They'll be tortured. I failed them."_ Val hung her head in shame as she continued to stand outside the gate.

Jon POV

Jon sat on the table, contemplating what happened. "_They murdered me. I tried to save them, and they killed me for it._" Jon felt a strange mixture between anger and depression at the thought. Jon could barely remember being dead. "_Perhaps it's right that the living don't know death, perhaps the gods felt it a mercy to strip my memory."_ Jon shook his head as he struggled to come to terms with what had happened.

Jon continued to hear the sounds of a battle going on outside. Jon was anxious to know what was happening. He turned to Alys. "Lady Alys, please, let me go outside, I won't join the fight, I just want to see what is happening."Alys looked at him disapprovingly. However, she eventually relented. Alys helped Jon stand, and he continued to lean on her as they walked outside of the tower, a cloak over his shoulders to cover his naked torso.

Once outside, Jon observed the Night's Watch, Free Folk, and some of Stannis's knights fighting and beginning to overwhelm a group of what appeared to be Bolton men. "_What the hell are Boltons doing here."_ Jon considered what this meant. "_They must have been nearby, after sending the letter. I may have walked into an ambush. They must have snuck in after hearing the mutiny and how loud and chaotic the situation was, and they took advantage of it._" Jon's blood boiled at the fact that his murder caused this too. Jon thought he could see Val running after a group going towards the gates, and he hoped she remained safe.

Before too much longer, the fighting stopped, and all the Boltons were dead. Jon looked at Alys, "Let's go see what has happened." Alys glanced at him reluctantly.

"Jon, we really shouldn't. Let them handle it," pleaded Alys.

Jon shook his head, "No, I need to know." Alys sighed in frustration before walking over. Soon, they joined the rather large group. "What happened here," asked Jon and the entire group turned to him, surprise and terror etched on their faces.

Tormund walked forward, looking uncharacteristically grim. Tormund examined Jon's face intently. Suddenly Tormund tore Jon from Alys's grip and gave him a bear hug that left Jon struggling to breath. "Har har…well king crow you be back, and without any blue eyes. Thank the gods I don't have to kill ya." Tormund continued to laugh joyously as the rest relaxed and most looked relieved, and the rest at least looked satisfied. Before long, Tormund put Jon down, and Jon stumbled back into Alys, breathing hard.

Once he caught his breath, he managed a small smile at Tormund. "I think your joy almost killed me." Tormund then laughed at that.

"Jon Snow," yelled a loud angry voice behind them, making the entire group turn in slight fear.

Val walked forward, with a furious scowl on her beautiful face as she examined the source of her irritation. "I thought I told you to stay in that damned room." Val then hit him in the shoulder out of frustration, causing Jon to yelp.

Jon rubbed his shoulder as he looked at Val sheepishly. "I just wanted to know what was going on. I was well out of the fighting; I didn't leave the front of the tower until well after the fight was over." Val appeared to be somewhat accepting of this, though clearly irritated by it still. Jon then turned more serious. "So, what happened?" Val's anger disappeared, and instead she looked upset.

"They took the princess, and another girl," answered Val grimly.

One of Stannis's knights, "_Massey I think,"_ came forward, pale. "Oh no, they took the princess, and Arya Stark. I failed." Jon's heart plummeted as he heard that, and Val immediately looked at him mournfully.

Jon pushed his anger down, knowing it wasn't the knight's fault. "How….how did she look? What did that monster do to her," asked Jon.

The knight looked at him, full of sorrow. "Nothing good, her brown eyes were filled with despair and terror." Jon listened to that before suddenly looking up.

Jon looked at the knight surprised, "Did you say brown eyes?" The knight looked at him confused and nodded. "Which hand did she favor? Right or left?" At this, the entire group looked confused.

Massey looked dumbfounded. "Um…I believe it was the right, yeah right handed. What are you asking about?" Massey's surprise grew as he noticed Jon smile slightly.

"I don't think that was Arya. Arya has grey eyes and is left handed." Massey looked in shock at this. "I wonder, perhaps….that may have been Jeyne, yeah, that description sounds more like her. Skinny, small bosom, round face, very pretty, around fourteen." Justin nodded surprised. "Arya is around eleven, not fourteen." Massey's eyes grew.

"Yes my lord, you may be right, the girl was definitely older than eleven." Massey seemed somewhat relieved to know that Jon was likely no longer angry with him.

Jon's expression grew grim again. "Doesn't matter though, whether Arya or Jeyne, I won't leave them in Ramsay's hands, nor the princess. Let's go in, see the queen. Tormund, Val, Massey, Alys, and I will go in, the rest of you secure the castle." Immediately all the crowd scattered, all obeying without a word.

All five of them quickly arrived in the queen's room, and found all of her sworn shields dead, along with two Bolton men, and even the princess's fool. "_It was a massacre. Where is the queen though?"_ The group searched around, and soon they found the queen.

Queen Selyse lay on the floor, barely breathing, a knife in her stomach, the wound clearly fatal. "Snow," she muttered weakly, "Come here, you too Ser Justin."

Justin helped Jon to the floor next to the queen, and immediately began to speak. "Your grace, forgive me, I failed you…." Queen Selyse immediately help up her hand.

"Ser Justin, why have you returned? Why are you not with my husband, our king?"

"I came on the king's command to sail to Braavos, to gather sellswords. Now that doesn't matter, I'll rescue the princess, I'll…"Again, she raised her hand.

"No, Ser Justin, follow your king's commands," she commanded weakly, before looking at Jon. For the first time, he saw something other than coldness and arrogance on her face, instead it was despearation. "Jon Snow, please, I beg you, help my husband, and save my daughter. I know you swore to the Night's Watch, but you have died. Your oaths no longer matter. I beg you, save Shiree…" However, she died before finishing the princess's name.

Jon looked sorrowful, surprised at his reaction. "_I never cared for her, but I won't refuse this command."_ Jon, with a determined look answered the queen's corpse, "I will go after your daughter, and even if I can't save her, I swear I will make Ramsay pay." Val reached down and helped Jon to his feet. Her hands were soft as she held him up.

Val looked at him, "So, Jon, what will you do now?"

Jon smiled at her. "Now my watch has ended. Now, I liberate my family's home, and remind House Bolton of our words. I am winter, and I am coming." Jon saw Tormund, Val, and even Massey nod in agreement. Now the war would begin anew, and House Bolton will die, even if it's the last thing Jon does with his newfound life. However, he would certainly not waste it.


	3. Southward Gatherings

Greatjon POV

Greatjon Umber was far from his normal jovial self. He was both unbelievably enraged, and hopelessly depressed. "_I failed them. The damned Freys, and the treacherous Bolton curs, they killed them. My king, his mother, Dacey, an ungodly number of Northmen…..my son…"_ Greatjon couldn't even think the name without screaming in rage. "_It's not right, a son shouldn't die before the father. A young boy king shouldn't die before his old bannerman. I am an Umber, the fiercest defenders of House Stark and the rest of the North, and yet, I am stuck like a damned caged animal."_ Greatjon knew he should be roaring in rage, but so much of his energy had already been spent.

Before long, a group of Frey guards approached the bars. "_Time for supper I suppose."_ Greatjon was used to the routine. They'd torment and abuse him for a bit, then they'd give him his sorry excuse of a meal, usually with something added to make it difficult to stomach.

The Freys opened the doors, and Greatjon noticed that they were carrying an extra pair of shackles with them. "_Strange."_ There was a total of 7 Frey guards. One stayed by the door, two got on either side of him, one approached him from behind with a spear towards his back, one cautiously approached from the front, and two remained between the man approaching him and the door, all but the spearman and the one approaching having their hands on their swords.

"Alright you barbaric Northerner, cooperate. We're moving you. Resist and we'll poke you full of holes. On top of that, we'll make you watch as we make the other Northmen hurt for what you did. Think of your fellow heathens. You care about them, right? Good, stay still."

Greatjon kept observing as they removed the chains he was in, and placed the new shackles. He wanted to fight, but even he knew it was futile. He cared little for his life, but he wasn't a mindless brute. "_There are a few young ones still here. I won't risk their lives just to maybe kill one or two of these weasels. Northmen lives aren't worth the small satisfaction I'd get from killing these fools. If the lead weasel, Walder Frey, was here, it'd be different, but he ain't." _Greatjon looked at the lead guard. "Where are you moving me to?" Greatjon couldn't help but feel ashamed of how weak his voice sounded then and there. The year of torment had taken its toll.

The man sneered at him. "You dare question me?" The man proceeded to slap him across his face. Greatjon almost lost his temper and attempted to strangle the man, but held himself. "_No, remember, now is not the time for rashness._" Greatjon turned and simply glared at the guard.

"Ah, so you still have some fight in you? Unfortunately, I can't teach you proper respect, since we're on a deadline. I am generous enough to answer your question though. You're being taken to King's Landing, then Casterly Rock. Apparently the Kingslayer has grown soft and dislikes how we administer the treatment you Northern dogs deserve. Perhaps you should lick his feet like a good dog when you meet him again. It's far more than you deserve." The Frey guard finished shackling him. "Now stand, it's time for us to go dog."

Greatjon was more than a little surprised to hear that the Kingslayer was attempting to move them to better arrangements. "_Maybe he has a shred of honor afterall. Then again, maybe this was simply a lack of trust of the Freys. The Lannisters may be cruel, but they are intelligent. We're no use as hostages dead. That's probably all this is."_ Despite that, Greatjon couldn't help but feel a degree of gratitude towards the Kingslayer. He still hated the man, but a good deed was a good deed regardless.

Greatjon was led out of the dungeons and eventually into a cage cart. Greatjon noticed that Marq Piper was the only other in the cage. Piper looked nothing like he did before, looking sullen and beat up. Greatjon considered speaking to the man, but quickly realized that the younger knight was unlikely to be willing to talk. "_Poor lad, appears to have had a rough time. Perhaps I handled it better due to being made of hardier stuff."_ Greatjon sat in contemplation as he felt the cart begin to move.

Greatjon couldn't help but consider how he had been placed in this mess. More specifically, he thought about the mistakes made by so many to get them here. "_I started all this by talking about independence. It seemed so sweet and attainable at the time. Now I see, we should have sided with Stannis."_ Occasionally, Greatjon would hear of what was happening, and he knew that Stannis had gone north. "_The first king in so long to travel to the Wall, to actually uphold his end of the promises made. In fact, not even us Northmen responded to the call when the Night's Watch begged for aid. Instead a man not even born of the North, did what we failed to do. We ought to feel ashamed. Perhaps we were too quick to refuse to work with Stannis. We ought to have spoken with him at the very least." _Greatjon couldn't help but shake his head at his own recklessness.

Afterwards, Greatjon thought to his king, the Young Wolf, Robb Stark. "_A good lad, a fierce warrior, but in hindsight, a poor king. Like all of us, he only focused on vengeance. We should have been more defensive. I was too fearless myself. I am still unafraid to risk my life, but my son's life, and my other children's' lives? Never again, that was the first I ever felt fear. I think that perhaps Robb had too much of the Wolf's blood, and perhaps too much Tully in him."_ Greatjon couldn't help but feel a degree of dislike of Catelyn Stark in hindsight. "_She sabotaged our war effort when she released the Kingslayer. Besides, I heard of how she treated that poor bastard boy. He was just a lad. She cared only about her own children, damn the rest of ours. She was just another southerner afterall."_ Greatjon knew that his emotions were running wild, and perhaps he was a bit unfair, but he was full of rage. "_If we had the Kingslayer, this likely wouldn't have happened. No chance that Tywin would risk our wrath on Jaime if we had sill held him."_

Greatjon continued to sit in the cart, contemplating the mistakes that led him and Piper here in this cage. He figured they had been going for an hour or so, mostly going west due to the road. They were being escorted by around twenty men. Suddenly, Greatjon heard shouting and looked around. He quickly noticed that three of the guards were on the ground, dead. The remaining guards stopped and surrounded the cage cart, in defensive position. Suddenly, a mixture of needles and arrows flew from all directions, catching the guards by surprise. The frightened guards tried to defend themselves, but before long, only 5 were left. Suddenly a group of a couple dozen men raced from darkness and began to fight the survivors. The fight ended quickly, with all the Freys dead, but none of the attackers.

Greatjon's eyes widened as out of the darkness came an additional 30 or more men. Some of them, Greatjon recognized as being crannogsmen, "_What in all the hells are crannogsmen doing this far south. Who are the rest of these men; they seem an odd assortment."_ Before long, a familiar face approached the door and opened it. "Hello Greatjon, it's good to see you're alive," said the man with a small bitter smile.

Greatjon managed to laugh a little, the sound of it being odd after so long. "Good to see you to you old Blackfish. Let's get out of here." With that, Greatjon, Piper, Blackfish, and the strange group of fighters, all disappeared into the night, heading for the Neck.

Blackfish POV (Week Later)

Brynden Tully watched as the Greatjon continued to eat, happy that he was getting back to his old strength. "_We need him back to his old strength. I don't want to work with Stannis, but at the moment, he's the best out of a series of terrible options. Besides, if he can get me on the path to vengeance, I care little about what he does with this country afterwards. All these damned people mean nothing to me, I just was my blade in every Lannister, Bolton, and Frey I can find until they're all dead, or I am." _Brynden knew deep down he was wrong, but all he wanted was blood now.

"So, how did you know where to find me," asked Greatjon between bites.

Brynden sighed. They were all at Greywater Keep, the home of Howland Reed, regathering their strength, and plotting their next move. "_Reed is a strange man, but he seems to be a good one. Though I don't like how fondly he speaks of the Stark's damned bastard. Perhaps I should end that one's life too."_ Brynden seethed in rage at recalling how long that boy, Jon Snow, had been at Winterfell. Brynden then sighed, regathering himself. "Apparently, Howland Reed had managed to find a few Freys who were upset at the Red Wedding, one of them is Robb's old squire. I'll acknowledge, the lad was decent, especially considering the others. They informed him of the prisoner transfer, and Reed had managed to also locate a number of remaining Northmen, Rivermen, and even a few former Brotherhood without Banners men under Edric Dayne, and an archer named Anguy. He sent some of them, along with his own crannogsmen down to free you, and they found me along the way too. Reed is planning something, and as I'm also a new arrival, I know little myself." Brynden watched as Greatjon digested this.

Greatjon nodded once. "Any idea what is going on in the North?" Brynden saw Greatjon look disappointed when Brynden shook his head.

Before long, an attendant arrived. "Lord Reed and the others have gathered in his solar and are awaiting your presences." Brynden and Greatjon nodded and followed the attendant.

Both men entered the solar, and both men were surprised at what they found. Lord Reed was there, along with Edric Dayne, Anguy, Maege Mormont, and Galbart Glover. Brynden watched as Greatjon laughed in joy and hugged the two Northmen. "Ha, so more of our old council survived," shouted Greatjon. Brynden couldn't help but smile at the presence of more allies.

"We were bringing Ned's bones, and the letter of legitimization to the Wall, as well as contacting Howland when the Red Wedding occurred. We ended up sheltering here, waiting for the right time, when these two showed up," said Galbart, indicating the two former outlaws. "After that, we kept receiving new information. Arya Stark appears to be wedded to Ramsay Bolton." Brynden's hands shook with rage and fear when he heard that. Ramsay's crimes had been reported to them, and Brynden would love nothing more than to kill the bastard. "Now, Stannis is marching on Winterfell, after having liberated Deepwood Motte from the accursed Ironborn. More and more Northmen are rallying to his side. Our information suggests that Wyman Manderly is on our side, just playing Roose Bolton, and that he is attempting to find something, what we don't know. Finally, it appears that Jon Snow is preparing to march from the wall with an army of wildlings." Brynden seethed with the last one.

Unable to control himself, Brynden stood up, his face full of fury. "That damned bastard is doing what? Marching with an army of wildlings, breaking his oath to the Night's Watch. We must end him as well." Brynden couldn't help but notice that none of the others seemed to support this statement, which angered him.

Galbart sighed, "We're not certain that he has broken an oath. Some information we're heard suggests that Ramsay may have threatened the Watch. As for the Wildlings, he let them through, which while unusual isn't a violation per say. Though on that, I will admit I am concerned as well, but I'll at least listen to the boy first. In addition, the fact that the Northern clansman leaders are travelling with him, gives support to the idea that somehow, despite the appearance, he hasn't broken his oaths. They are the most traditional of all of us. In addition, I understand that you hate him for simply being a stain on your niece's honor, but he is still an innocent boy, and the last son of Ned Stark, so you will not threaten him." Galbart and Maege both glared at Brynden.

"Besides," began Maege, "We were going to try and free him from the Watch anyways. This just eases the situation. He's our king now, though we may be bowing to Stannis. I'm not exactly fond of the idea, but my daughters seem to have been willing to, and I taught them well so I trust their judgement. Besides, I think Howland has some interesting information for you to hear." Brynden was still seething, but he couldn't deny that he was interested to hear this interesting new information.

All eyes turned to Howland Reed. Howland Reed was a rather small, unassuming man. His eyes appeared tired, and older than he seemed. "_His eyes seem older than even my own, and I'm sure I'm older than this man. I've always heard him called mysterious, but the rumors don't do him justice._" Brynden was unafraid to acknowledge that Reed's patient gaze, and calm smile unnerved him.

"Very well, I myself had originally sworn to keep it a secret, but I see now that doing this is necessary in order to secure both the North, and clear the path forward. My oaths to Lyanna Stark do surpass mine to Ned in my mind." Brynden raised an eyebrow at this statement. "_What does Lyanna Stark have to do with this._" Howland cleared his throat before continuing. "This story starts before even the rebellion, at the tourney of Harrenhall…"

Greatjon POV

Greatjon very rarely was shocked into silence, but this was indeed one of the exceptions. "_A son of Rhaegar Targaryen, now that's a shock. Though now that I think about it, the boy did always seem a little different in appearance. Most claimed he resembled Ned, but now that I think, there was always something that screamed he wasn't. Thank the gods he had Stark coloring though, otherwise that damned Whoremonger Stag would have declared war sooner._" Greatjon slowly began to digest the information.

Howland Reed had claimed that there was enough proof, and even an acceptance from a High Septon to somehow have the marriage recognized and Jon be considered a full, trueborn Targaryen. Greatjon doubted it would have been that simple, something even Reed agreed on, many would object. However, Rhaegar was a Targaryen, and they were prone to bouts of arrogance. Naturally, many of the details were unknown to Reed, and would never be found since they resided in Rhaegar Targaryen's mind, a mind now lost. However, Greatjon figured that between the documents that showed Rhaegar's intentions and claims, combined with the fact that King Robb had in fact legitimized and named Jon his heir, that would likely convince the Northmen rebelling against Bolton to accept. It might even convince a number of Riverlords, if only due to their desperation. Half wouldn't support even if the gods themselves came down and announced it. Honestly though, even though he was no political mastermind, Greatjon knew that legality and orders of succession were now meaningless. Whoever sat on the Iron Throne now would be decided by conquest. All are plotting against each other. However, Greatjon remembered the boy, and thought that he may have an edge. He was born in Westeros, has a decent reputation, is likely to be supported by an adequate number of Westerosi soldiers, and from reports appeared to be strong and intelligent. Naturally, he'd have to prove it, but still. The biggest issue in the near future would be Stannis, but that can be decided later.

Greatjon looked around the room. From the looks, most had been told this before, him and Tully were the ones being informed. The Blackfish however, looked to be a conflict of emotions; anger, confusion, remorse, and a whole slew of emotions in between.

Finally, the Blackfish looked up. "Alright Reed, from all I've heard about you, you're not a liar. In addition, you claim to have proof, the key bits of which you've shown. I'll believe it for now, and I'll meet the boy. I don't promise to support him, but I'm willing to ally for now. However, I want to know a few things. Why are you telling us now? Why did Ned never say a word to Cat? If it was a vow of silence, why are you telling us before the boy?" Greatjon noted that his voice seemed raw with emotion.

Howland smiled his typical mysterious smile. "Lyanna made Ned promise, I made no vows. Besides, I assume that we'll need to convince people to support him. After all, most presume him a bastard, and all know what people consider bastards to be. Besides, I always felt that he should have been told before, and certainly not led to the Wall. In my opinion, Ned failed both Lyanna and the boy. She would have never allowed him to go to the Wall. As for why Ned never told Lady Catelyn, I do not know. Ned was sometimes a mystery even to me." Howland stated all this without any true emotion. Somehow, that alone made Greatjon feel uneasy.

Brynden looked unsatisfied but he said nothing. Greatjon suspected that he'd wait until he actually met Jon before he spoke further.

Greatjon sighed, having finished coming to terms with the truth. "_Hmm, I guess that Ned's one stain was his greatest showing of honor. Also proved that he could truly hide one hell of a secret. Shows why he always tried to change the topic when the issue of Jon's mother came up. Despite being gifted at keeping secrets, he was just about the worst liar on the planet."_ Greatjon almost wanted to laugh loudly at the idea of such a huge secret being maintained by such an awful liar.

Greatjon looked around at each of their faces. "Alright, I have a few questions myself. First off, why are their members of Beric's group here with us, and where is Beric and Thoros? And what do we do now?" Greatjon noticed Anguy and Edric both stiffen at this.

Edric, being the one of higher birth, began to speak. "Well…. you see…. we um…. split up after Beric died. He gave the last kiss…. a funeral rite of sorts amongst those who follow the Lord of Light…to um….to…Lady Catelyn Stark." Immediately, Greatjon and Blackfish, along with the other lords and lady turned their attention to Edric. "_Strange that they hadn't asked. Maybe he avoided the question before. No matter. That said it's clearly something that unnerves the lad."_

Edric took a breath to calm his nerves. "Her body had been removed by a giant grey wolf, possibly another direwolf." Greatjon remembered hearing that Arya Stark's direwolf was supposedly running wild in the Riverlands after the incident at the Inn. Edric then continued. "Somehow….I doubt you'll believe me….but….um…well you know the stories about how Beric supposedly died but came back." All occupants nodded at this. "Well….he did….I swear by the old gods, the new gods, and the red god. He truly did come back by the will of the Lord of Light." Greatjon and the others glanced at each other, full of skepticism. "_However, this lad clearly seems like he's telling the truth. At least as he knows it. Perhaps there's more magic than we thought."_

Edric looked at the others, clear pleading in his eyes. "I ask you to restrain yourselves. I swear I am not lying. But…after Beric gave the kiss, he died, for good this time…and….um….Lady Stark….she um…..rose…She rose from the dead." Edric began shaking at this.

Galbart and Maege looked at each other in disbelief, Howland looked awed, Brynden looked angry initially before his face turned to a strange combination of emotions. Greatjon himself was dumbfounded. "_No way, she's dead. This can't be….but this lad clearly believes it. If nothing else, he's not lying, though he may be poorly informed." _

Galbart cleared his throat. "Lad, did you actually see this." Galbart clearly didn't believe him.

Edric looked at him, full of determination, overcoming his earlier nerves. "Aye my Lord, I was Beric's squire, I was there the day she rose. And I swear, her body may be alive, but all of Lady Stark's goodness is gone. She rose a mutilated corpse, unable to speak properly. She's like a revenant from the stories our nursemaids told us. She is the one responsible for the hanging of all the Frey's, regardless of involvement. She kills without remorse, without trial, and without an ounce of mercy. As a result, several of us chose to leave, unsatisfied with that way of doing things. So here we are." Edric finished, though Greatjon could tell that he doubted that he was believed.

Greatjon watched the others absorb the information. Most were in disbelief or denial. Greatjon, to his own surprise, believed the lad. He seemed to be honest, and the look in his eye, the desperation to be believed, seemed desperate enough to be legitimate. "_What in all the hells is happening in Westeros?"_ Greatjon now had another thing to add to what he feared.

Howland seemed to recover from the shock the quickest, and returned to his earlier stoic expression. "As for your other question, we will depart for White Harbor to meet with the Manderlys." Greatjon was annoyed by how Howland switched topics with ease. "_Crannogsmen…you never know what's in their skulls._" All the others nodded, and after a few more hours of discussions, they retired to their quarters. Within a couple days, they departed for White Harbor.

Wyman POV (A week later)

Wyman Manderly considered all of the events that had happened. Ser Davos was presumably still searching for Rickon Stark. Stannis had defeated the Frey force that had been sent North. "_Good riddance to those eternally damned oathbreaking weasels."_ Jon Snow was beginning to move from the Wall. Stannis was about to continue the march after the week long blizzard. Now, Galbart Glover, Maege Mormont, Brynden Tully, somehow Greatjon Umber, Edric Dayne, and surprisingly, Howland Reed had arrived at his home.

Wyman rubbed his aching throat, still hurting from the Frey's attempt to kill me. "_I hope the ones who did it were the ones who sank to the bottom of the lake._" Sadism was not a quality usually valued in Northmen, but Wyman felt it deserved in this case.

Robett was understandably delighted to find Galbart still alive. In the midst of that joyous reunion, Howland requested to speak to Wyman alone. "_Hmm, I'll have to journey to Greywater Keep someday. They have the most incredible secrets there. To think that the supposed bastard was the last son of Rhaegar Targaryen and the Lady Lyanna. Ned truly wasted the boy. If he had trusted any of us, perhaps the War could have gone differently. We had a viable candidate to put on the throne."_ Wyman himself remembered the boy somewhat from visits to Winterfell. The boy was withdrawn and somber, almost like a miniature Ned. Admittingly, Wyman had noticed that they boy would become far more attractive than Ned, no offense to the Starks, but they were typically rugged in looks.

Overall, Wyman had felt that the lad could have been a good household guard for Robb. Perhaps a future master-at-arms. "_The boy had all the makings of a great fighter. With the exception of the lance, the boy outclassed King Robb in other aspects of fighting._" Wyman to his great shame though, hadn't looked too closely. "_Perhaps I do look down on others too often. A character flaw, perhaps lingering southern influence in our minds._" Wyman now saw opportunity. They could use Rickon Stark as their liege lord, and Jon could be their king. "_Perhaps find a way to merge his claim with Stannis. They are third cousins I believe. Or is it fourth? I don't remember. Regardless, Stannis only has that sickly girl, so he may be in need of an heir."_ Wyman knew that he was the most politically minded of the Northern forces opposing Bolton. As a result, he needed to plan for afterwards. He couldn't deny being concerned about the Wildlings that Jon Snow was bringing with him, but he had heard strange reports. "_If they're true, the wildlings at least seem to by loyal to him. Perhaps we should give them more of a chance. In all honesty, I have little hatred of them, Manderlys have had little interaction with them. Besides, regardless of the truth, he was raised Ned Stark's son, and he'll have the same sense of pragmatism. He certainly handled it poorly, but I'm sure there's a reason._" Wyman chose to wait to confront the issue until later.

Wyman had sent the word out; his forces were beginning to gather. In a short time, he would have his heavy cavalry and infantry loaded on ships and they would travel up the White Knife to Castle Cerwyn. They would be led by himself. Wylis was to stay here and continue to recover. "_I am no warrior, but with the group I have here, I should be able to help lead this campaign._" All with him were experienced soldiers and commanders. With luck, Ser Davos would arrive with Rickon Stark by then. Wyman had originally had no intention of helping Stannis until then, but he knew he had no choice. Wyman had been forced to prove his lack of loyalty to avoid Stannis Baratheon. Now, Bolton would hunt him. One thing was clear, Roose Bolton had to be defeated.

Wyman heard knocking at the door of his solar. "Enter"

A servant quickly entered. "My Lord, Ser Davos has returned."

Wyman smiled joyously, "Very good, send him in."

The servant looked reluctant at this. "My Lord, I know it is not my place, but Lord Stark….he doesn't look well, you may want to come to him." The man looked worried.

Wyman frowned at this statement. "Very well, I'll go. Lead the way."

Wyman followed the servant to a room, and entered. Wyman noticed that the Blackfish had arrived and was attempting to approach what was clearly Rickon Stark. However, the boy a giant black wolf both growled at the man forcing him to retreat. Wyman saw a worn-out Ser Davos, along with the ironborn boy Wex, and a woman he didn't know standing near the Blackfish.

Ser Davos walked over. "My Lord, as you see I found Rickon Stark. However, he appears to have lost his mind. He's gone feral. To my surprise, I found the lad with the help of a few less savage Skagosi. The woman with me, Osha, is a wildling the Starks apparently captured and made a servant. She claims that Rickon is something called a warg and he spent too much time in the wolf and being too young it broke him." All of Ser Davos's words were coated with his distinct Flea Bottom accent.

Wyman frowned. "This is troubling good ser. I will honor my agreement to fight for King Stannis, however, Rickon Stark is clearly more of an issue than I thought. This will require some planning. In the meantime, join me in my solar with some of the other lords. We'll be leaving soon, and there are some details to inform him." Wyman led the man forward. "_I'll tell him about our war plans, but I'll leave out Jon's parentage for now. I like Ser Davos, and I think he's trustworthy, but his loyalty is to Stannis. This will have to be handled carefully."_ For now, Wyman would keep the secret to the Northern Lords, the Brotherhood, and the Blackfish.

Blackfish POV

Brynden exited the room after Wyman left, and stood outside the room. Before long, he collapsed to the floor sobbing. All of the news of the past couple weeks all collided at once. "_My niece felt dishonored for nothing. Her children are dead or missing except for one, and most of those who are missing are probably dead as well. The one that lives would be better off dead perhaps. On top of that she may be alive but as a half dead soulless creature. How am I to go on?"_ Brynden couldn't believe what was happening. His family was all gone. How had an old man like him been left the only one free and in good condition. "_The gods have a twisted sense of humor._"

Brynden sighed and steeled himself. "_Cat may have hated the boy, but I'll give him a chance. Perhaps she was right, perhaps not. I don't care about his parentage; I will use him as a weapon for revenge. Robb told me that the boy adored his siblings. I'm going to put it to the test, and I will make him serve as the instrument of vengeance. We will succeed."_ Brynden stood up and walked towards the war council.


	4. Games and Marches

**Shireen POV**

Shireen was terrified as she rode on the horse, held by the woman named Myranda. "_Mother is dead. Father is far away. This man is a monster. He even killed Patchface. Patchface never hurt anyone, and they killed him anyways."_ Shireen started to whimper.

Myranda noticed her whimpering, and patted her on the head. "There, there, stop crying. We wouldn't want to make Ramsay angry would we." Her words were seemingly kind, but Shireen knew that they were anything but. Myranda was the cruelest after Ramsay.

Shireen mustered up enough courage and stopped crying. Shireen had seen some of Ramsay's nature already. They had briefly been accosted earlier by a few of her father's knights that pursued them from Castle Black. Ramsay's guards had managed to kill them, but one man, a man named Alyn had been injured bad enough to require rest. Ramsay instead slit the man's throat and fed him to the hounds that had been with them, all while the others laughed. The man had been their companion, fought bravely, and they still laughed at him being eaten by dogs.

Shireen knew that there was no point in attempting to escape. She was no fighter, probably even worse than average for highborn ladies. She was physically weaker than most, she tired far easier than most when even doing a casual walk. The greyscale infection had sapped a large amount of her reserves permanently. "_All I can do is wait, and pray that father can rescue me. I'm not surprised that the ones at Castle Black haven't sent more people, there was so much noise, I doubt they've even managed to assemble themselves yet. Assuming any even are alive who care to come after me."_ Shireen knew that her only value was due to being the daughter of King Stannis. Nobody would fight for her personally.

During the ride, Myranda had served as her guard, partially because they were small enough that they could both fit on the same horse. The other prisoner, a girl said to be Arya Stark, was riding, being escorted on both side, Damon to the right, and Skinner to the left. However, Shireen thought that it seemed excessive. "_That girl looks even more worse than me. She looks like a beaten down sheep. Whatever her life has been, she's broken. I doubt she could escape on her own even if she wished to."_ Despite her circumstances, she felt sorry for the other one.

Ramsay turned behind him, with his typical terrible smile on his ugly face. "Alright, Myranda and Grunt, ride onward with our sweet little princess. Damon and Skinner, stay here. Leave the hounds. I wish to have a chat with my lovely wife." Ramsay turned to the girl and smiled sadistically. Arya screamed and tried to flee. Damon and Skinner managed to restrain her horse before she could flee. The terrified girl began sobbing endlessly, muttering words that Shireen couldn't understand.

Myranda looked at her. "Alright princess, let's ride on." Shireen looked at Arya, feeling overwhelming remorse. "_He's going to do something terrible to her. I just know it."_ Shireen turned around and a silent tear ran down. Shireen knew she would never forget the utter horror on Arya's face.

Myranda, Grunt, and Shireen rode forward and soon they were out of sight of whatever Ramsay intended to do to the poor girl. Unknown to Shireen, her situation was not any better than the situation that Arya Stark was in. Soon, she would learn the full extent of the cruelty of the Bastard of Bolton first hand.

**Jeyne POV**

Jeyne Poole had seen an unimaginable amount of cruelty in her short life. She couldn't have dreamed that the world could possibly be this cruel. "_What have I done to deserve all this? My father is dead. I imagine my mother and sisters may be as well. I've been abandoned by my supposed friend Sansa. Turned into a whore by Littlefinger, and beaten as well. And now a plaything for this monster. Why? Why?"_ Jeyne was on the verge of hysterics as her monster of a husband approached her.

Ramsay stood in front of her, his face twisted into his normal ugly smile. "Now, now my lovely wife. I'm insulted at your reaction to me. If I didn't know better, I'd think that you consider me an unworthy husband." Ramsay then ran his fingers across her cheek.

Despite being repulsed, Jeyne made sure not to flinch, biting her other cheek to prevent the involuntary motion. "_Ramsay doesn't like it when I flinch. He thinks that I'm looking down on him. Must not flinch. Must not flinch._" Jeyne was terrified. The best-case scenario was that she would be violated again. The worst case, "_I can't even imagine the worst. Every time I think he's done the worst he can to me, he finds a way to outdo himself. I'm in hell."_ Jeyne grudgingly accepted the hideous monster's horrible touch.

Ramsay finally removed his hand from her, and continued smiling. Soon, Damon and Skinner dismounted and approached either side of her, joining their monster of a master. Jeyne knew from experience that they were all nearly as bad as Ramsay himself.

Before anyone could react, Ramsay pulled out a knife and stabbed both Skinner and Damon in their throats and they fell to the ground, struggling to breath. Within moments, both men were dead. Jeyne screamed in shock and fell to the ground. "_What is going on? This makes no sense. Why would he…?" _Jeyne couldn't believe what she saw. Both men were amongst Ramsay's favorites. Jeyne finally understood, there was no way to tell what went on in Ramsay's mind.

Ramsay nonchalantly wiped off his knife as he looked down at her with a smile. "They had big mouths. They reported my activities to my father. I hate squealers. You should know, after all, I managed to um….train you out of that habit." Ramsay laughed as terrified tears ran down Jeyne's face.

Ramsay crouched down and was inches from her tear-soaked face. His smile had grown even wilder and more evil. "My dear wife, I do believe that you have disappointed me." Jeyne was too terrified to even let out a sound. "I can't be known as the man who let his wife run away. I'll be the laughingstock of the North. However, I am a fair man." Jeyne knew that this was a lie.

Jeyne was in pure hysterics by now, as faint animalistic sounds of fright came from her lips. "_I'm going to die. He's going to torture and kill me. I don't want to die."_ Jeyne was no longer able to think straight.

Ramsay appeared amused by her reaction. "We're about 10 miles from Winterfell now. If you make it there on foot, you get to enjoy my bed again. If not, we enjoy each other's company one more time." Jeyne sobbed openly at this, and Ramsay laughed.

Ramsay then grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up. He then pushed her, and Jeyne stumbled forward. "I recommend you run," laughed Ramsay as he grabbed the hounds. Jeyne's eyes widened in terror as tears streamed down. "_It's one of his games. No, no, no, I don't….I don't…."_ Jeyne began to desperate stumble forward in the snow.

After ten minutes, Jeyne had barely made any progress, and she finally stumbled to the ground. "Unfortunate, I expected more," shouted Ramsay. Jeyne heard the hounds howl, and she knew that they had been released. Scared out of her mind, Jeyne lay there screaming in utter terror, knowing that her fate was now sealed.

**Jon POV**

Jon was astonished by the fact that he could already walk on his own. It had been a week since his death, but now he was able to walk on his own. "_When one dies, they're not supposed to ever walk again. But here I am, practically able to skip around._" Jon wasn't quite back at his full strength yet, but he was getting close.

Yesterday, he had executed the majority of the mutineers that they could identify. In total, there were around 30 men, including Bowen Marsh. Many of the others were suspected of joining in, but it was difficult to identify whether they were mutineers or simply fighting Wildlings because they thought they were causing problems. "_I even used Ghost to try and sort out, but he could only sort a couple more men definitively. Many had issues with him, but they weren't particularly strong. As a result, to be just, I had to spare them. Besides, the Watch needs men._" Jon had considered simply executing all those not specifically loyal, but he forced himself to remember his father's teachings. "_Lord Stark would have never condoned that. Hell, before I died I wouldn't have condoned that. Is this simply bitterness from the betrayal, or am I falling into darkness._" His growing ruthless scared Jon somewhat, though it was only because he could feel that deep down he was enjoying it.

Jon could barely remember the final words of the majority of the men. He could only remember the satisfaction from ensuring that they died. "_What's happening to me? I would be brooding over their demise, instead all I feel is happiness that they're dead."_ Jon shook his head, trying to relieve his mind.

Before long, he entered the room. All around were the leaders of the Free Folk, especially Tormund. Joining them were Lady Alys, Melisandre, a few of Stannis's senior men at arms that stayed with Melisandre, the Mountain Clan Leaders, a few of the remaining Night's Watch officers, Alysanne Mormont, and Val. Val offered Jon a small smile as he stood next to her and Tormund. Jon returned his own. To say that Jon had relied on Val over the course of the last week would be an understatement. "_Thanks to her, I stayed grounded. I owe her greatly."_ Jon then turned his attention to the room.

Jon cleared his throat. "Alright, we all know why we're here. We need to discuss the problems going forward, the Boltons and the Others." Jon noticed all the people in the room nod in agreement. "Due to the events of the mutiny, certain things have changed." Jon avoided speaking of his death, something that all the others thankfully accepted. It had been uncomfortable for awhile afterwards. "_So many people thought I was some sort of god. If I am, then I'm probably the worst possible sort."_ Jon then took a breath, and Val looked at him with concern.

Jon quickly recovered. "As I said, certain things have changed, one of them being my status in the Night's Watch. My vows were for life, a life I have given, therefore releasing me." Jon saw the Free Folk all approve, knowing that they hated the Watch even though they were allies. The clan leaders appeared to accept it, neither pleased nor angered. The officers of the Night's Watch looked displeased, but resigned. "_Of course they don't agree, but they're also not foolish enough to disagree. They know that I'd be happy to execute them."_ Of course, the exception to this was Leathers, since he was the master at arms before this, he was left essentially acting commander of Castle Black.

Jon took a quick breath. "Alright, naturally not all of the Free Folk will be marching with me. We need some to remain at the Wall, and more to travel with Tormund to Hardhome. We're pulling men from the Night's Watch for this as well." Tormund saw heads nodding in agreement.

Tormund's booming voice then entered the conversation. "Yeah, we need to go to that cursed village and rescue the crazy witch and the rotten bastard from Eastwatch. Plus we've got to get there before the blue eyed pricks kill them and make their corpses kill us." Jon noticed that the Free Folk looked a mixture between amused by Tormund's statement and nervous about how true it was.

After that, it became a conversation of simply deciding who was coming with Jon, who was coming with Tormund, and who was going to stay. In the end, it was decided that Soren Shieldbreaker, Borroq and the Boar, Morna Whitemask, the Great Walrus, Harle the Handsome, and Tormund's eldest son Tormund would lead the Free Folk travelling with Jon. All together there would be 2000 Wildling warriors travelling with him, along with 25 Giants and 25 Mammoths including Wun-Wun. In addition, Sigorn and his 200 Thenns would travel with him in order to honor his new wife Alys. All of the Northern clansmen and Alysanne Mormont would also join him, along with Melissandre and all of her guards. All told, he would be travelling with an army consisting of 2200 Free Folk, 25 Giants, 25 Mammoths, around 20 Northmen, and 50 southron knights.

Tormund meanwhile, would be leaving with Harle the Huntsmen and Howd Wanderer beyond the Wall. They would have a total of 200, around 150 Free Folk and 50 Night's Watch. Due to it being a ground journey, they would need to have a sizable company, but not too large. In addition, time was essential, meaning that waiting on the Shadow Tower or Eastwatch for manpower would be a waste of time, and while Jon could try convincing some with him to remain behind he both needed the manpower and realized convincing Free Folk to do something they didn't want to do would be foolish. Honestly the number that volunteered was a small miracle. All the rest of the roughly 10,000 Free Folk would remain at the wall. Of the 6650 Free Folk, around 500 were warriors, and the rest were noncombatants.

As the meeting was coming to a close, Satin came running into the room. Curious Jon walked over and Satin whispered what happened in his ear. Jon's eyes widened in surprise at what Satin whispered, before smiling slightly. Jon turned to the group of commanders. "Come with me to the ice cells. There is something you all need to see." All the commanders, except Val , Melissandre, and Tormund looked at each other confused. Those three were likely the only ones aware of his experiment.

Soon they were all horrified by the sight in front of him. The two corpses that Jon had been keeping in the ice cells had finally been reanimated, therefore proving the existence of the Others to those who hadn't know. While Jon knew that the Free Folk all knew of the Others, the northmen and southrons were staring slack jawed in shock and horror. "This my lords and ladies, is the enemy that we all face. I will be taking one with me to show the other lords and ladies. Unless the North is unified, we will all die." Jon then walked out, though he noticed the Free Folk staring at him impressed. "_I think that they are viewing me almost the way they did Mance. At least some things are improving."_ Jon then left the ice cells, smiling at his success as the northmen were finally convinced of the threat, at least the ones at Castle Black.

**Val POV (That Night)**

Val wandered towards where Jon's quarters were. She was anxious to depart. "_These Bolton fuckers need to be brought down quick. Not only do we need to rescue Mance, but Jon is right. The longer we're all fighting each other we're fucked."_ Val wasn't fond of the southern king like Jon was, but she'd follow him. "_If nothing else, he's an improvement over those dead fuckers. Besides, for a southerner, he's far from the worst._" Val couldn't help but remember the other "great" nobles amongst the Crows, compared to them, this Stannis seemed to be more genuine.

Soon Val arrived at Jon's door. Upon reaching it, she knocked. Val had been spending a good amount of time with him after his death. "_I'm worried about him. He tries to hide it, but I can tell that he's not entirely the same. I could see the glee in his eyes when he hung those crows. While they certainly deserved the fate, and I enjoyed it, Jon was never the type to enjoy death._" Val couldn't deny that while she found his overly idealistic nature annoying, it was also rather endearing.

Jon opened the door and let a small grim Stark smile before letting her in. Val shook her head in amusement. "_I suppose joy will never really be him. He's got too much Stark ice in his veins._" Val walked in and sat in a chair.

Jon sat down in another one before staring at her. "So, what do you need Val? We're leaving in the morning, you should be resting." Despite his words, Val could tell that he was relieved to have some company.

Val shook her head. "Jon Snow, you are a skilled warrior and a wise leader, but you're pissed poor at talking to women." Val then laughed when she saw Jon begin to turn red. "That said, I do have a reason to be here other than to keep your grim company." Jon glared playfully at her.

Val took a breath and looked at him more seriously. "Be honest with me Jon, you're not quite the same before you died are you?" Jon looked at her, a mix of remorse and acceptance on his face. When he began to speak, she raised a hand. "Look, I'm not criticizing. There's no way you'd be the same after that type of experience, but still Jon, I saw how you looked when you hung the traitors. You were full of glee. They may have deserved it, but that's not you. You pout and look miserable while doing it, instead you were about to smile while doing it. Are you alright? Can I help?" Val looked at him, and she couldn't hide the worry in her tone.

Jon sighed before looking at her intently. "You're right, I'm not the same. I probably never will be. I did enjoy killing those men. I don't know why, and honestly, I don't care why. Perhaps the cold and ruthless approach is the only way I…" However, before he finished Val leapt from her chair and slapped him across the face.

Val glared angrily at him, her eyes watering from her anger at him. "Listen to me, and listen to me well Jon Snow. That is not who you are, and you will never be that way. I won't let you. Your heart is just as important as your mind. Your heart, foolish it may be, is why so many believe and trust in you. So don't you ever try to become that." Jon looked about to argue when Val dropped to a knee to look at him directly, her face inches from him. Her expression softened into a smile, "Jon, you're my friend. I care about you too much to allow that." She then reached out and gently stroked his cheek. "Please, let me help you, don't shoulder this alone. I'll be here, you don't have to be alone." Val and Jon then stared at each other. To her surprise, Jon soon kissed her deeply, and to her further surprise she reciprocated. The display increased in passion until they ended in bed, letting their feelings fully known. The next day, they both awakened, somewhat awkward, but happy.

Later that day, the Jon's army left through the south gate towards Winterfell while Tormund's group left towards Hardhome. Unknown to all involved, many of the groups, those leaving and staying would never see each other again.

**Davos POV**

Davos Seaworth could hardly believe how much his life had changed. A few decades ago, he was a lowborn smuggler, a criminal. Then he decided to make a mad gamble and tried to deliver food to a group of starving rebels while sneaking past one of the greatest fleets of Westeros. Now he was a knight, a lord, and the Hand of the King. "_My life truly looks like nothing I dared to imagine. I am truly fortunate to have met King Stannis._" Davos knew he owed Stannis far more than he could hope to ever repay. However, he was delighted to be able to return at least some of the favor.

Davos was on the lead ship carrying the Manderly troops. All together, they had 20 ships carrying a total of 5000 men, about 3000 of them Manderly heavy cavalry and the rest an assortment of infantry. They had a collection of highly experienced commanders, they had Rickon Stark secured in White Harbor, even if he was deranged. "_All in all, we have a mighty host. This, combined with what Stannis already has, might be enough to win this war. If we could get the Wildlings to commit as well, we'd be golden, but alas that'll take more time than we have. Besides, having more forces at the Wall isn't a bad thing either._" Davos wasn't sure he completely believed in the Others, but from what he could tell Stannis did and that was enough for Davos.

Lord Manderly soon approached Davos and stood by him at the railing on the deck. "Greetings Ser Davos, I hope that the seas are treating you well." Lord Wyman Manderly was not quite what Davos had expected. While the descriptions of his appearance were dead on. "_I pity the poor horse that this man uses._" That said, his personality was very different, not nearly as cowardly as the stories said, he was merely cautious and undeniably intelligent. "_I believe he may be the most dangerous of the Northern lords after Roose Bolton himself. His mind is far sharper than his body, in fact his mind may be the sharpest in the North."_ Davos counted himself lucky to have this man as an ally.

Davos smiled at him. "It has mi'lord, before I was a knight I sailed quite frequently. Admittingly in less than noble ventures." Davos smiled when Manderly laughed amicably at this. Lord Manderly had accepted his former criminal ventures without much fuss. "_Like Stannis, he appears willing to look more at deeds and heart than many highborn. He likely views me as an inferior, which I don't blame him for, but he's not as unbearable as other highborn."_ Davos rubbed his arms slightly. "That said, this colder weather is taking some getting used to. It's been a long time since I sailed this far north." Manderly laughed again at that.

With a smile, Manderly slapped Davos across his back. "You better get used to this weather fast. Winter is here Onion Knight. I'd hate to lose a valuable ally." Davos chuckled at this, though his back hurt slightly. Manderly was stronger than he looked.

Wyman Manderly suddenly turned more serious. "Ser Davos, once we land, we'll be saying our goodbyes for awhile. You, Greatjon, Blackfish, Mormont, Galbart Glover, and the Brotherhood along with around 100 knights will travel to meet with King Stannis. The rest of us will travel more slowly and get into position. After you discuss the plan with King Stannis, send half the knights back in order to inform us of all of the plan." Davos nodded at this. "Very well, I suggest you rest. We'll likely reach the point of the White Knife closest to Winterfell by morning." Manderly then turned to leave.

Davos glanced at the water one more time. "_Very well, we're in the best position we've been in since Blackwater. I swear to the gods that I won't let this become another one. I will serve Stannis better this time. We will win here, regain our momentum, and liberate Westeros from the Lion's clutches." _Davos then returned to his quarters. Sure enough, they did land the next day. By noon, Davos and his designated companions left to regroup with Stannis.

**Sansa POV (Around the time of Jon's Resurrection)**

Sansa could not deny being relieved to be done with the disguise of Alayne. Not long ago, Petyr had revealed her existence and was rallying the Vale into attempting to liberate the North from the Boltons. "_If his information is correct, this is the best time to return. I am the last of the Starks, I will return the North to what it was._" Sansa was anxious to return home and put her new skills to work.

After her reveal, she had been engaged to Harold Hardying. While he was attractive, Sansa found much of his personality distasteful. "_He's an arrogant boastful fool. However, I suppose that will make him easy to manipulate."_ Sansa was proud of her skills, as was Petyr. According to him, she truly was his apprentice.

Sansa would be traveling with the army. "_A leader must be seen with the army. On that the North is accurate in. However, unlike brave foolish Robb I won't be anywhere near the frontlines. That's what soldiers are for." _Sansa felt slightly bad about thinking about soldiers that way, but she quickly pushed that thought down.

They would be travelling towards Moat Cailin first. The army would have to travel through the Neck. After that, their host would quickly travel towards Winterfell. However, they would only be bringing around 10 thousand, the rest would remain in the Vale as a reserve. "_I am a Stark, the remaining true Northerners will flock to me and I'll have my army double or even triple in no time._" Sansa was confident her name alone would be enough to convince them, even if she had never truly built a relationship with any of the other lords and ladies in the North.

Despite her desire for power, she did still yearn for her family. She couldn't help but think of Jon at the Wall and felt remorse. "_I treated him so poorly when we were children. Perhaps I should try and have him removed from the Night's Watch. He's my only brother left, I don't care if he's a bastard._" Sansa was unsure if he would even want to return to her side. Despite that, Sansa still considered the thought.

Soon, a guard knocked at her door. "It's time Lady Sansa." The guard bowed in respect.

Sansa smiled slightly. "Thank you. I'll join the rest." Sansa left her room and travelled to meet with the rest of the army. She rode beside Lord Yohn Royce, the military commander, and Petyr. Soon, the 10 thousand strong force departed on their weeks long journey.

**Stannis POV (Around the Time of Jon and Val's departure from Castle Black, 3 days after Jeyne's POV)**

Stannis was finally making headway towards Winterfell. The blizzards had passed, they had plenty of food, and his army was finally acting like a mostly unified force rather than a collection of tribes loosely hung together. "_Soon, Bolton will fall, the boy king will lose control of the North, and I will have regained my momentum in this war._" Stannis was feeling a rare bout of excitement.

Stannis was marching when suddenly a lone rider came towards him, bearing a white flag. Stannis signaled his army to halt. Stannis quirked a brow confused. "_Why would Bolton send a lone rider out this far? Even if he were to surrender, this wouldn't be how he'd do it. He'd wait till I was closer. Besides, any negation would likely have treachery involved. No, this doesn't make sense, who is it then? A lord who wishes to defect?"_ Stannis couldn't help but be curious.

Soon the rider came before the first of Stannis's guards before he stopped his horse and handed a letter towards the guard. The rider was clearly a direct member of Bolton's guards. Stannis walked forward. "Rider, identify yourself." The rider removed his helmet and opened his mouth. To Stannis's disgust he soon realized that the man had no tongue and therefore could not speak. Stannis shook his head in annoyance and took the letter.

The letter read, "_To the false king Stannis Baratheon, I, Ramsay Bolton, heir to Lord Roose Bolton, Warden of the North, ask you to approach the hill in front of you. I wish to enlighten you to the nature of House Bolton. Signed, Ramsay Bolton."_

Stannis looked up at the rider. "You will dismount and follow us to the hill. I will take 20 men with me, I want the Clansmen to be ready to ride a moment's signal." The men behind him nodded and soon orders were being issued. Stannis and his guard, along with the captive, rode for the top of the hill. The lead man at arms with him was Ser Godry Farring, Richard Horpe remained behind to keep the army together. All of the men with him were his knights.

Soon, they reached the top of the hill in front of them. Upon reaching the top, Stannis's eyes widened in shock. Before him, on top of a nearby hill within easy sight of where they stood was a large pyre. On top of which was tied a terrified Shireen. "_Shireen….how….she's at Castle Black….she's supposed to be safe…."_ Stannis was in a state of shock and terror.

Soon, a man that was clearly Bolton's bastard strode forward. With a loud voice he announced, "Greetings false king Stannis, I will now show you that the North will not bow to false southern kings." Ramsay then lit the pyre and it quickly lit up and Shireen screamed in terror and pain.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" screamed Stannis, and immediately action occurred all around him. One of his guards sent the signal, while another beheaded the Bolton rider. Stannis hopped on his horse and rode at full speed. Meanwhile, the bastard and a companion with him quickly rode off as the clansman began to ride forward. Stannis quickly reach the pyre. By the time he arrived, it was a blazing inferno. "Shireen," screamed Stannis in an unseen amount of emotion. Stannis could hear a weak whimper. "_I won't let her die."_ Determined, Stannis ripped off his chest plate and leapt into the inferno.

Stannis quickly climbed the logs as flames began to burn his skin. Stannis soon reached the top and found his daughter. Using strength he didn't know he had, he dragged Shireen who's ropes had burnt up and leapt out of the fire. Stannis rolled on the ground, trying to put out the fire. His left hand was severely burned, as was the left side of his face, as was his right cheek. In addition, his hair had been burned off. However, to his dismay, Shireen was horrifically burned, and he quickly realized, fatally burned.

Stannis quickly held the charred girl in his arms as tears ran down his burnt face. "Shireen, my daughter, stay with me, please." Stannis was holding his dying daughter as his horrified army gathered around. Dozens fell to the ground in horror upon realizing what had happened.

"Pa….pa…" whimpered Shireen before the burnt girl breathed for the last time, dying. Upon realizing she had died, Stannis let out a distraught horrified cry of grief and rage, a previously unseen display of emotion for the normally stoic king, showing that Stannis did indeed care about his child.


End file.
